Schlachthaus Der Gedanken کے بول

This is a fading trace of reality Distorted lines of freedom Where the mediocre man prevails Absolute flattery of equality Like the procession of the hearse Slowly leading the lamenting mob To the burial of existence Industrie des Fleisches Schlachthaus der Gedanken No more traces of reality It fears, it cries, it hopes, it loves That little sphere filled with fragile life Already crawling into death row Industrie des Fleisches Schlachthaus der Gedanken When followers drown into non-self Irradiated by constriction of mind A grandiose self arises to stand and refuse The innocence of his peers mangles his deep ego Cracking like whips on flesh Altering his senses until all humanity is gone Perceptions are swirling - visions darkened And as lucidity vanishes - anger is soon in control This outburst of violence - pure and devoid of reason Takes hold of a new reality He reigns They fall